A False Start: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 4)

I can’t move. Unable to get up from where she left me here at the table, I spin the mug between my hands. I can’t even enjoy my coffee.

Nothing is as good without her around. The air isn’t as soft. My heart doesn’t race, and I don’t look forward to catching sight of her. Just a flash of her blonde hair or the sound of her laugh can turn my entire day around.

Having Nadia in my orbit for the past months has made me realize I was living before, but I wasn’t alive. I was existing. Her presence resuscitated me, and now I’ve overwhelmed her with the weight of my baggage.

I take a sip of my coffee as I stare at her still-full cup. It’s lukewarm and really tastes bad. This cup of coffee and I have more in common than I care to admit.

Her car door slams, and the sound makes me flinch. She’s leaving. And I can’t fucking blame her. She’s a smart woman, and smart women run for the hills when they stumble across a man like me.

But the sound of her car engine revving never comes. I’m met with silence and the grinding sound of my cup spinning on the table. It grates on me. I’m annoying myself.

I’m also torturing myself by not getting up to see what she’s doing. Finally, I give in, abandoning my chair, placing the cups in the sink, and striding through the living room to the front window. Her car is still parked outside. A deep sigh of relief rushes out of me as I move to the side window.

The one facing the field of flowers.

She’s sitting in the very middle of it, head down, furiously scribbling in her journal. I wish again that I could take a photo of her sitting out there, so immersed in doing what she knows she needs for herself.

The wildflower I can’t get rid of no matter what I try.

She glances up, and even though she’s far away, I swear we lock eyes. She bites her lip, and I stumble back, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding on a moment she needs to herself. So, I sit on the couch and wait.

I brace my elbows on my knees, drop my head into my hands, and wait. I run through every scenario in my head, including losing her, which makes me feel physically ill. I didn’t make it through as much as I have to find the one and then lose her.

I just didn’t. That’s a fate I refuse to accept.

I’m not sure how long I sit here spiraling before I finally hear footsteps on the front porch. My heart beats harder and I go still when the front door opens. She leans against the jamb and stares at me. I can’t tell what’s going on in her head right now. Her face is carefully blank.

“I think I’m going to head back home. I need to get ready for school.”

My stomach flips. She’s running from me, and I can’t blame her one bit.

“Okay.” I nod, and let my hands fall limp between my legs. Defeated.

Her eyes flare and she bristles, arms folding beneath her breasts, journal in hand. “Fuck you.”

I sit up taller, pressing my hands into the couch on either side of me. “Pardon?”

“I said fuck you.” She really enunciates it this time.

My molars grind against each other. “I’m sorry. I really am. I tried to spare us both from this.”

She rolls her eyes, looking her age. Looking like a total brat. “Boys are dumb, you know? I don’t give a flying fuck about your meaningless marriage. Do I irrationally hate a woman I’ve never met? Yes. Could I get sick just thinking about you with someone else? A big fat yes. Am I pissed off you didn’t tell me? Yeah, Griffy, I am. But mostly I’m pissed off you’re too big of a pussy to fight for me.”

I glower at her, hating how right she is.

“Too scared of my brother? Too scared of hurting me? Too scared to work on yourself so that you can be worthy of something good? Fuck you for being such a coward. You said I was yours, and now you’re going to sit there and let me walk out?” She scoffs. “Yeah. Pardon my French but . . . Fuck. You.”

I go deathly still, letting the truth of what she just said hammer me. The competitor in me is wide fucking awake now. The buried athlete? The one that works his ass off to get what he wants? To defy the odds? To win the games? She just tapped that guy on the shoulder.

No.

Kicked him in the balls.

Something I should have done a long time ago. A flare of frustration burns in my chest as I stand and close the distance between us with a few long strides. One hand shoots out to wrap around the back of her neck while the other rests above her on the door frame, caging her in. “You are mine.”

Nadia’s eyes widen with how quickly I moved, but her lips tip up. Like she’s amused by pissing me off.

She walks her fingers up my heaving chest. Beauty and the Beast facing off in a remote mountain cabin. “There you are. Been wondering when you were going to man up enough to take what you want.”

My breathing is slightly labored as I lean down to whisper in her ear. “Are you trying to piss me off?” I watch the gooseflesh race down her arms.

“No.” Her voice comes out breathy, and I see her nipples pebbling beneath her shirt. “I’m trying to wake you the fuck up.”

“Mission accomplished, Wildflower.”

Her chin juts out in challenge, not the least bit intimidated by me. She never has been. I wouldn’t want her to be. “Good.”

“Get your ass back to that table so we can talk.” I gesture over my shoulder toward the kitchen.

“Make me.” Her eyes flash, irises shifting earth tones, like living flames. “I’m not much in the mood for talking, Griffy. I’d rather you bend me over tha—”

With one arm, I reach down and heft her over my shoulder, quirking a smile at her delighted squeal. Should have known she wanted to work out the tension this way. I swat her ass firmly with my free hand before reaching for the rope hanging beside the door.

“What did I tell you about the next time you called me Griffy, Wildflower?”

She squirms as I storm across the house before depositing her on the chunky wooden farm table and pushing myself to stand between her spread thighs. I toss the rope down beside her, not missing the way her tongue darts out across her lips as her eyes flit to it.

“I’m having a tough time remembering.” She taps a finger over her lips. “It was so long ago.” Bullshit. She’s been trying to goad me since the second she stepped foot on my front porch.

“We should really talk. And I’ll tie you to a chair if you try to run off again.” My gaze bounces back and forth between her eyes, looking for a sign that she’s uncertain or confused. But all I find is pure heat and longing.

“Later.” She tosses the floral print journal onto the floor before reaching down to pull her shirt over her head, letting it fall to my feet. “Right now, I want you inside me. I want to feel like I’m yours and you’re mine. Not anyone else’s. I need that.”

There’s hurt written in her words. And all I want to do is erase it. If this is how she wants me to do it, I’m hardly going to deny her. Especially not with the sight of her soft breasts straining against the pale pink cups of her lace bra. There’s no padding and the translucent effect has my cock straining against my jeans instantly. Her dusty pink nipples tease me.

I reach out and twist one between my thumb and forefinger, watching her full lips pop open with a surprised gasp.

“You jealous, Wildflower?”

Her jaw pops as she stares up at me, feral and turned on. The prettiest blush stains her bronzed skin. “Yes,” she grinds out, like it physically pains her to admit it.

“Don’t be. You’re all I want.” My eyes race over her skin, watching her heartbeat jump in her neck and the blush creep down her chest. “You’re all I think about.” I lean over her, hands against the tabletop, and lick that pulse point. “You’re all I dream about.” She makes a mewling noise, and I clamp my teeth into her neck hard enough to leave a mark. My girl likes that. “You’re all mine. You’re it for me.” I pull back to take her in, to make sure she hears me clearly. “Now lose the fucking pants. I want you naked and begging for it.”

She stands instantly, chest pressing against mine as she shucks off her jeans. I groan when I catch sight of the matching lace panties.

This girl is going to be the fucking death of me.

She moves to turn away from me and bend herself over the table, but as much as I love fucking her from behind, I want to see her face today. “Nuh-uh.” My hands wrap around her waist as I spin her back toward me and lift her onto the edge. One palm to the center of her chest, I press her down flat across the width of the table, reveling in the quiet gasp the cool surface against her back elicits from her pretty mouth. She hits me with a hungry look, a flash of nerves in her eyes. I know she’s not quick to open up. Shit, neither am I. But if we’re going to make a go of this, then we’re both going to have to try. “Like this, so I can see your face when I fill you up.”

I press a thumb against her clit through the thin lace and watch her body buck beneath me.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, fingers trying to dig into the wood beneath her.

“Are you wet for me, Nadia?” I ask as I stare down at the beautiful body laid out across my table. Right where she belongs.

“Yes,” she whispers as she looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes.

I already knew the answer. I can feel her wetness through the triangle of lace that’s doing a very poor job of covering her up.

“I’m going to tie your wrists. Would you like that?”

Her top teeth sink into her lower lip. “Yes.”

With one more press to her clit, I move away to the opposite side of the table, grabbing the rope as I go. She moves her wrists up above her head, and I quickly wind the rope around them before tying it to the ladder-back chair at the opposite side of the table. I give the rope a tug and smirk when it holds fast. You don’t grow up on a ranch and not learn how to tie a good knot.

I stride slowly back to the other side of the table, watching her chest rise and fall with the speed of her panting. Her nipples poke through the lace as she squeezes her thighs together, clearly trying to ease the ache between them. I move to stand close, brushing against her knees where they dangle over the edge.

“Do you trust me?” My voice drops an octave as I ask the question. This is important to me. I want her to trust me.

“Yes,” she breathes with perfect sincerity.

I swallow the lump in my throat before reaching up and hooking my fingers into the waist of her panties, sliding them down over her shapely hips and firm thighs, leaning in to press a kiss to her knee as I drop them on the floor with the rest of her discarded clothes.

“I can’t even decide what I want to do to you first,” I muse, trailing a finger up her leg, dipping into the hollow beneath her hip. Teasing her.

“Fuck me.” Her voice is edged with desperation as she squirms against the rope, testing its fastness. “Please. Just put me out of my misery and fuck me. I want you so bad. I love it and hate it all at once.”

I can’t help but smirk, feeling more like my old self by the minute. I know exactly what she means. Because I feel it too.

“No chance, Wildflower.” I kiss my way back up her body. Her pulse pounds beneath my lips when I get to her throat, and I revel in how vulnerable she is for me right now. “I’m not going to fuck you. I’m going to savor you. I’m going to make you fall apart for me.”

“You already have,” she whispers. There’s a hint of sadness in her voice. Like she’s figured out something I haven’t.

“Not even close,” I rasp, reaching down to cup her sex and pressing the heel of my hand against her throbbing clit. She squirms and moans, the light sounds of her panting seeping in around the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

When we’re together, it’s like nothing else exists. The world dissolves around us. Our breaths sync—our hearts pump in perfect unison.

Dragging my lips back down her torso, I cup her breasts, tugging gently at her nipples. Lick the small dip between her hips and stomach. Watch her buck beneath me and hear the rattle of the chair as she tugs helplessly at the rope.

I don’t pay her pussy any attention, even though I can tell she’s shimmying toward me, wishing I would. “Agony, wanting something you can’t have, isn’t it?” I ask as I ghost my hands over the tops of her thighs.

“Touch me.”

“No.” I stand up tall with a smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Please touch me, or . . .” She’s begging now.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m going to freak out.” Her voice holds a desperate edge to it now. “This is torture.” Her fingers clench and release over her head.

“You are the very best kind of torture, Nadia. My special brand of hell. But I want you so badly I don’t even mind the flames.”

Her tongue darts out as she regards me. Chest heaving. Clearly struck speechless by my confession.

I take a step back, gaze raking over her. “Now spread your legs for me.”

A shiver races through her, and she obeys, slender thighs parting on a quiet whimper.

My dick hurts, it’s so hard. “Do you have any idea how pretty you look like this? I’ve never been harder than I am right now with you trussed up and spread out on my dining room table like a fucking five-course meal.”

She giggles, sounding a little unhinged. “Only five?”

I step closer, and her body trembles. Running a hand over her inner thigh, I press one finger into her wet heat, watching it disappear inside of her. I groan. She is too fucking much.

When I glide it out, her head flops from side to side. Nadia isn’t a patient woman. I know the anticipation is killing her as much as it’s killing me, but that’s what our relationship is—brilliant, cruel, torturous anticipation.

Her eyes flare with heat when I slide that finger into my mouth, sucking on it before pulling it out with a lewd popping sound, never dropping her gaze. “You’re right, five courses won’t be nearly enough.”

“Griffin. Hurry up, and f—”

I stop her right there as I drop to my knees before her spread legs. “If you call this fucking one more time, I’m going to flip you over and redden your perfect ass.” My fingers dig into her thighs as I prop them over my shoulders.

“I’m scared to call it more. The timing feels all wrong,” she confesses, and my heart constricts.

“Then I’ll wait for the right time.” I hold her gaze for a beat, wishing I could force her to understand how all in I am on her. And then I drop my mouth between her legs and get to work on showing her instead.

Her thighs shake as they wrap around my head, squeezing harder the closer I push her to orgasm. Every lick, every kiss, drives her toward the edge. Sometimes I press hard, then I’ll pull back and slow my licks, opting for a featherlight touch that makes her snarl at me in frustration.

I just smile and carry on, driving my girl wild.

There’s something about this moment that feels like a beginning and an ending all at once. Like everything is on the table and neither of us is sure what it all means. But I think we both know this thing between us is monumental.

When I drive two fingers into her, she screams my name and thrashes on the table. “Griffin! I’m going to come. Please don’t stop!”

Fucking right, you are is what I want to say, but she said don’t stop. And I don’t intend to. I push her harder until her entire body goes rigid around mine, legs clamping down and pussy pulsing in my mouth.

It’s fucking heaven.

When she finally goes soft, I stand and shuck my clothes off, watching her eyelids flutter as she struggles to catch her breath. She hasn’t even opened her eyes when I run the crown of my aching cock through her seam.

“Do you want my cock, Wildflower?” My voice rumbles through the quiet room as our eyes finally meet. She takes my breath away. Warm eyes. Rosy cheeks. Sated look on her face.

This is how she looks in my dreams. How she should look every day.

“I want . . .” Her throat works as she falls silent. Which is very unlike her. I figured she’d beg for cock like the adorable little vixen she is, but she finishes by saying, “I want you. All of you.”

And fuck me, that is so much more than I banked on. So much more than I deserve.

I slide into her with one firm thrust as I lean down over her body and claim her mouth, swallowing her whimpers and feeling the press of her lace bra and swollen breasts against my bare chest as her tight sheath milks my length.

“It’s not enough. More,” she murmurs against my lips, and I know she’s right. I want her closer. I want even more from her. More than she can reasonably give.

Reaching up, I tug the ropes off and sigh in relief when her arms wrap around me, holding me close. Her legs clamp around my waist, and my hips rock into her violently. The table makes a dull screeching sound with every hard thrust that drags it across the floor.

“I want this so badly,” she whispers, tangling her hands in my hair. We kiss each other frantically. Cheeks, chins, ears, throats—we cover each other in kisses as I pound into her with reckless abandon. Her back arches to meet every thrust.

“Me, too, Wildflower. Me, too.”

I push away the little voice in the back of my head that’s popped up to remind me that when I want something badly, it doesn’t work out.

I wanted a long, celebrated career. I wanted a marriage like my parents have.

Wanting this with Nadia is the kiss of death.

But I make love to her all day long anyway.

And later, while she sleeps, I pick up her journal and cross that off her to-do list for her.